


OSS #7 Fireworks

by somewhereelse



Series: bee-eye-en-gee-oh [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Olicity Summer Sizzle, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 05:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19716820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: Oliver and Felicity explore the desert during their summer road trip. A literal Fourth of July glow up from Season 2.5 to Season 3.5.





	OSS #7 Fireworks

“I miss lighting things on fire.”

“What?” Dig chokes on his water.

Felicity startles, “What?”

After clearing his throat, he levels a fond but suspicious look at her. “What kind of arsonist criminal record did you erase for yourself?”

Rewinding her words, Felicity groans, “No! I meant _fireworks_.”

Diggle’s response is another confused look, “But you’re from Vegas.”

With a deadpan expression, Felicity explains, “Exactly. It’s kind of hard to burn down a _desert_. Starling’s surrounded by forest. One wrong spark and _whoosh_ the entire state goes up in flames. Then next thing I know, the Arrow’s bursting into my room at night to go all, “Grr, you have failed this city.” Not exactly what I imagine when—”

Her face flames as bright as her beloved fireworks before she pivots, “Plus, Mom’s customers always brought the good stuff. None of those baby sparklers.”

“What exactly is the _good stuff_?” Roy asks with skepticism. That he pretends something wholly inappropriate wasn’t about to fall out of her head makes her like him a scooch more.

“Mortar shells that shoot up like 200 feet.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You weren’t scared?”

“You guys do not give me enough credit,” she grouses. “ _I’m_ the one who suggested blowing up Applied Sciences.”

Dig gently ignores that explosive last ditch effort. “Why don’t we go out to the ballpark for the fireworks show next week?”

“It’s not the same,” Felicity sighs wistfully, “I mean, sure, that sounds great. Would love to spend more time with you guys not in a damp basement. But it just really isn’t the same as setting them off yourself.”

Roy looks at her with a little admiration in his eyes. “Adrenaline junkie,” he declares, smile growing, “Let’s see if we can hook you up.”

“No, no illegal fireworks,” Diggle mandates, frowning at them both to express his displeasure. When Roy gestures at their surroundings, a base for _illegal_ vigilante operations, Dig explains, “Yeah we operate under the cover of night. We don’t send up giant illegal flares that tell the authorities exactly where we are. It’s just common sense.”

Which, at times, neither she nor Roy have in spades. They deflate, and Felicity pretends to rally by looking into the itinerary for the Fourth of July festivities at the ballpark. All the while she pretends not to notice a silent Oliver in the background.

* * *

“Oliver. What is going on with you?” she finally finds the nerve to ask. It’s a valid question given, well, _everything_.

Adorably, her semi-retired vigilante tries to play like he was ever good at lying to her. “What do you mean?” Oliver shifts uncomfortably, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

With a sigh, Felicity launches into the rundown.

“First of all, you wanted to come to New Mexico in July. I admit the Carlsbad Caverns were cool, but this is still the _desert_ in _July_. Second, you’ve been acting really strange all day today, including running off for like three hours and not letting me look in the trunk once you got back. Third, you just dragged me out of bed to drive over an hour to a Native American reservation at midnight. I swear if there is a dead body in that trunk you won’t let me look in because someone pissed you off while you were out “running errands,” I am _not_ helping you bury the body.”

He shoots her a dirty look. “Your faith in me is astounding.”

“My faith in you has moved mountains, buddy. Figuratively for the mountains but like literally for stopping a nuclear warhead,” Felicity retorts easily, “Gotta give Lyla credit though. And it’s how well I know you that’s making me real suspicious of this field trip.”

“Well you can stop wondering,” Oliver swings the car to the right where there’s a small field serving as a pullout, “Destination has been reached.”

Felicity stares out the windshield into the vast expanse of nothingness before them. “Aww, babe, you shouldn’t have,” she deadpans. Her attempt to shoot him a sarcastic smile is ruined by the inky blackness once Oliver’s killed the engine.

Then he’s opening his door while reminding her, “A little faith, please. And get out of the car, would you?”

“Is this it?” Felicity jokes after she’s tugged her (but really Oliver’s) sweatshirt over her head. As a child of the desert, she’s more than prepared for the nighttime temperature drop. “Did I finally drive you over the edge with my babbling?”

He ducks back into the car to engage the battery and turn on the headlights. In the ambient light, she can see Oliver leveling her with his most serious expression. Then he’s on her side of the car, gripping her shoulders firmly.

“I love your babbling. I will never get sick of it.”

The declarations have her swooning, but his intensity is still concerning.

“Oliver, I was just—”

“Joking, I know,” his expression eases a little, shifting to gentleness, “You don’t always have to do that.”

Felicity stiffens up. For all that she knows Oliver in his bones, well, he’s got a pretty good read on her, too, more so than anyone else in her life. It’s as amazing as it is scary.

Pretending he doesn’t notice her sudden anxiety, he wraps an arm around her shoulders to lead her back towards the mysterious trunk. A flashlight beam appears, and she realizes he must have had one ready in his trusty cargo pants. If not for the boozing and womanizing, Oliver would have made an excellent Boy Scout.

Her gasp is audible at the reveal of a case of _real_ fireworks, and she turns towards him with a beaming smile, never mind that he can’t see it through the sheer blackness. 

“You didn’t! I thought we were flying under the radar.”

Oliver’s pride is evident in his voice. “I checked the internet. They’re not actually illegal on reservations. I even researched remote places so we don’t bother anyone. And I have a fire extinguisher ready for any accidents.”

Yep, _total_ Boy Scout. At least these days.

“You’re the best!”

Searching through the darkness, Felicity finds his face and yanks him down to her level for a smacking kiss.

“Let’s light some shit on fire!”

At her pure glee and uncharacteristic cursing, Oliver laughs before slipping a lighter in her outstretched hand.


End file.
